


Friendship Ain't All It's Cracked Up To Be

by escritoireazul



Series: Ain't All It's Cracked Up To Be [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 1999-05-01
Updated: 1999-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendship isn't perfect, but the most complicated is still precious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship Ain't All It's Cracked Up To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Dedication: To thathappyplace, Kira, and The Lost Cave, because I would have stopped writing long ago had it not been for all of you.  
> Notes: This story takes place around season three of BtVS. Things from later seasons may be included, but not often. This is where the series first began, this is where it will end.

The sun had set an hour past, dipping into the dark ocean with more reluctance than Gabriel had ever seen. Shadows continued to trail along the sidewalks long after the light had faded to a rosy red glow; the curving rail of the Giant Dipper, one of the more popular rides at the Boardwalk, cast darker images around them-because Willow and Angel had hovered near her sides from the moment Spike took off-as they'd waited for Spike to finish.

Her presence had been respectfully requested as close to sunset as possible, kind words that meant she'd better have her ass there within five minutes of the sun going down or else. She didn't want to know what the "or else" would be.

Gabriel had chosen the lesser of two evils (or so she hoped): to a) make a still-hungry Spike accompany her to the rendezvous spot or b) to be late. To rush Spike through his evening hunt would have put a cranky vampire on her hands. She was damn sure that if he didn't eat first, he'd make dealing with her…friend…as unpleasant as possible. Since she had spent the past twenty-four hours brooding over a plethora of ideas as to what this payment of her debt would entail, she doubted he would help matters by being his usual cocky self.

None of those ideas she'd come up with had been pleasant on their own. The people…not people, she admitted, but too many years of dealing with mortals left the word in her head…didn't need any help from Spike to make them evil.

So she hoped that allowing Spike to have a leisurely hunt-semi-leisurely, she had to amend in her mind. Spike could…and would…take hours to complete a task once he'd determined it pleasurable. Hunting was one such thing. She'd learned recently that making love was another. It frightened her how just the thought caused her to react violently; she'd come close to stalking him through the night, flinging him up against one of the buildings that graced the human-filled Boardwalk, and taking him there, no matter her haste or the audience surrounding them.

Of course, if she let herself dwell on the hope that eating would calm him for too long, it began to fade away, and no amount of mental grabbing could hang on to it. She knew him far too well; their relationship in the past had demanded it, while their new physical closeness only strengthened her understanding of his mind.

He'd go out of his way to piss off those they were visiting, partly because it was simply his style, to bait and argue and taunt. Partly, she had to admit, he'd do it because he was the only one who'd been privy to her fear-tinged tears the night the call came in. He'd held her, as bruised and battered as he was, wiping away the dampness that stained her cheeks and soaked through the pillowcase.

The warm, fuzzy feeling that knowledge brought sent her skittering away from the thought…and feeling quite a bit like Willow. Like a mortal, though she'd never been one of those.

At last Spike's hunt finished, and he rejoined them under the flashing neon lights that painted the sun-darkened skin of the lusty mortals around them. The streets were packed with people and vehicles; add the fact that the road in front of his chosen hunting grounds was a one-way street, and returning to their rented convertible (the irony Angel was capable of, the wry acceptance and insult to his vampire-nature even amazed Willow, who should have been the one to understand him best, as his lover; she'd as much as said so when he'd shown up with the car) was an effort in futility.

When they'd reached it and Angel had managed to maneuver his way into the traffic, heading away from the crowded streets that swept along, parallel to the ocean, Gabriel sank back against the dark leather seat, resting her head on the cushioned head-rest, and closed her eyes.

She was allowed only a moment of peace; before three breaths had passed her lips, her skin began to prickle beneath a steady gaze. Another deep breath and she opened her eyes to meet Willow's green ones.

"Where are we going?" Willow asked, draping her arms over the back of her seat. At Angel's insistence, they'd all buckled up, but the strap was loose enough to offer the young Hacker leeway. She wasn't worried about an accident; her trust in regard to Angel was implicit.

"To see a friend of mine, you know that," Gabriel reminded her gently. She'd told the story a dozen times already, and each time Willow pressed for more information. Even though she understood the Hacker's need to know what was going on around her, it had been too many years since she'd had to clear her actions with anyone else for her to be comfortable with the search for information.

"Yes, a friend," Willow echoed, "a friend who you still haven't named. But that's not what I'm asking, this time. *Where* is your friend? I would have thought any friend of yours would be smack dab in the middle of the city…like where we're staying."

"There's a…cave, just up ahead," Gabriel admitted, her voice low. Willow's eyebrows arched up her pale forehead and she couldn't hold back the small, disbelieving smile that crooked her lips.

"A…cave?" Willow shook her head, settling against the seat once more, her face now turned away from Gabriel to peruse the dark woods surrounding their vehicle. "She lives in a cave? I thought you said she was a lot like you."

 

"She is," Gabriel sighed, staring down at her hands. They tightened together in her lap, her fingers scrabbling to find purchase before they laced into one another. "More like me than is good for us. But the cave belongs to the vampires she's been spending time with. I suppose that's why she's staying there."

"Do demons often spend so much time with vampires?" Willow changed subjects with the ease of a surfer cutting across a ten-foot wave. "I mean, Drusilla ran off with that Chaos Demon, you have a history with Spike and Angel, and now this…"

"Some do," Gabriel explained, stretching her legs out as far as she could, until her knees pressed into the back of Willow's seat. "Most don't. The more powerful demons tend to avoid vampires, because vampires are of the human world, even if they don't want to admit it, and demons stay in their Demon Realm."

"That's not true," Willow objected, jerking around until she could face Gabriel again. "Demons are always trying to take over the world; we've stopped them enough times, I should know."

Gabriel sighed, tilting her head until she could regard Willow through the fall of her dark hair. "Those demons aren't Master Demons, for the most part. Occasionally, yes, you get a powerful demon who has aspirations of world domination. Usually they're making up for having a small dick, just like humans say men who drive big trucks are…"

"What?" Willow's startled gasp brought a bright smile to Gabriel's lips, her teeth flashing in the faint starlight that managed to trickle down through the treetops. Willow frowned, drawing her lower lip up under her teeth as she waited for the explanation to continue.

"Anyway, besides those with size problems, most Master Demons stay away from the human world. There have been a few, of course, who live here and thrive without doing things to attract the Slayer's attention…and my friend is one of them."

"Who are the vampires she's taken up with?" Willow shifted the topic yet again, filing away the comments on demons and power for a later point in time. She still found herself floundering in some conversations that the others slid through easily; the sting of disappointment when she didn't understand was enough to keep her away from certain topics.

"The Lost Boys," Spike interjected, joining the conversation between the two females with ease. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of Angel's seat so he could face Willow without causing her to strain her neck. "They are the only big vampire faction in Santa Carla. Any others here are just loners, without affiliation to any group."

"You sound like you know them," Gabriel turned to look at her lover, confusion marring her dark eyes. He didn't meet her gaze, but planted one hand on her thigh, his fingers stroking up and down slowly.

"I do," he admitted. "I met their leader, David, back when he was running around London wrecking havoc with the mortals. I liked the chap back then, but not his Sire; Maximilian is a boring old man. I always thought he'd make a good Watcher."

"Do you know any pertinent information that might give us some sort of edge over them?" Angel spoke for the first time, though he kept his eyes focused firmly on the twisting gravel road that led them ever higher into the forest and away from civilization. "Seeing as they know why we're here and we don't, I think we need any help we can get."

"They keep their numbers small," Spike mused, relaxing against the back of the bench seat. He tucked one arm behind his head and placed his left ankle on his right knee, bouncing his black boot impatiently. "I heard they had grown to a good size at one point, but a number were wiped out. Right after that, they returned to Santa Carla, to lick their wounds, some say. Others claim it was to rebuild their own. Whatever it was, they're a cruel bunch, but strange. I've never known them to hunt innocents; said they didn't see the fun in that. I never did understand their bloody problem."

"Maybe we can hold that against them," Angel mused, shaking his head in a vague sort of motion that belied the confidence he forced into his voice. "Or maybe we'll figure something else out before we have to deal with them again."

"What makes you think we'll see them again after tonight?" Gabriel asked, leaning forward slightly. She rested her elbows on her knees, just above where Spike's hand still offered her silent comfort.

"If this was going to require one meeting only, you wouldn't be so worried about it. You've been hiding your emotions well, Gabriel, but I've known you long enough to know the truth." Gabriel glanced sideways at the vampire next to her, but Angel wasn't done speaking. "And no, Spike didn't tell on you." Angel glanced into the rearview mirror, though he knew she couldn't see his eyes within it.

Spike shrugged at her, lifting his shoulders in a weary movement that shifted the leather trench coat, causing sections to rub together and offer up a pleasant sound. Gabriel sighed and collapsed back against the seat, turning her attention to the road.

"Are we almost there yet?"

"I don't know," Angel dragged his eyes back to the darkness shifting just in front of the car's headlights, but wouldn't let up on his sudden interrogation. "What can you tell us about your…friend? We might need to know something about her; so far all we know is that she's a she."

"'She's a she?'" Gabriel echoed with a small laugh, shaking her head at the Xander-like comment. In all the time they'd spent with the young human male, she had never considered the fact that he might rub off on Angel; usually it was the other way around, with the vampire affecting the way those around him acted.

"You know what I mean," Angel tightened his grip on the steering wheel, relaxing only when he felt the metal inside start to crack. He waited, letting the silence build around them, only broken by the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

"She's young, especially for a demon, but even for a human," Gabriel tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she drew up a mental image of her friend. "Her name is Silver. I hope her father's not here. He is quite overprotective of her, with good reason, I guess."

"Why?" Willow broke in. "Just because she's his daughter?"

"Partially," Gabriel agreed with a small nod of her head. "But mostly because of what she is. It's not often a demon and a human give birth to a baby."

"She's half-human?" Spike's voice swept over Gabriel like a warm blanket, sprinkled with his surprise. She lowered one hand and traced her fingers along his before she started to speak again.

"She is. Her mother was human, her father was demon. They call her Half-breed. She's not the first to be born, but she's the only one who actually tried to live as a demon. She accepts challenges, fights with more passion than I've seen in many pure bloods, and became a Master before she was thirteen, something unheard of."

"Why is that important?" Willow pressed one finger to the corner of her mouth, and then nodded decisively, her green eyes bright. "Wait. Is it like with Angel? His soul fights with the demon for control? Does her demon fight with her humanity?"

"I don't know for sure," Gabriel admitted. "But I would assume so. She's very closed off about how she feels; I always took that as a sign that she wasn't sure which way to go, toward the demon or toward humanity."

"That we can exploit," Spike laughed, stretching one arm along the side of the car. "If she's having internal problems, she won't focus as much on outside attacks. It will be a distraction."

"You keep talking like we're going to have to fight her," Willow shifted around in her seat until her back faced the windshield. "Why? I thought she just wanted to talk to you, Gabriel."

"You know how demons are," Angel answered before Gabriel could do more than open her mouth. "And vampires to boot. Talking will lead to displays of power as they try to one-up us…it will get nasty."

"It always does," Spike agreed, his lips twisted into a pleased smirk. Anticipation hummed along every line of his lean body and it was all he could do to keep from leaning forward and pressing down on the gas petal to make sure they arrived sooner.

"No one is to fight until I say so," Gabriel reminded the vampires. "I want to try to keep this as friendly as possible, no matter how such occasions usually go. I don't want…"

But whatever it was that she didn't want was lost beneath the squeal of brakes as Angel slammed his foot down. The front of the car dipped, making the world tilt at a sickening angle. Willow was flung backward, her head smacking against the windshield, even though the seatbelt tightened and tossed her into the seat again before any real damage was done.

The rear wheels spat up bursts of gravel that sounded eerily like gunfire as Angel shoved the stick into reverse. Willow could feel her heart leaping higher and higher in her throat as it pounded, until she expected to feel it emerging past her lips. At last the tires found purchase and, inch-by-inch, the car shifted backward.

The front wheels pressed to solid ground again and the entire front half of the car bucked backward with an audible groan of metal against metal. When Angel slowed the car to a stop, Willow collapsed, her head falling down toward her lap, her high, harsh gasps of air filling her ears.

"Willow, are you ok?" Angel jerked the key from the ignition and it shuddered to a stop. Before the last rumble of the engine had died, he was bent over the young woman, his fingers brushing over the back of her head, seeking out any injuries from her contact with the windshield.

"They didn't mention that in their directions," Spike leaned over Gabriel, pressing her into the side of the car until she had nowhere else to go. His lips brushed her ear and his purr rumbled against her skin where his throat pressed to her shoulder. "Looks like they want to keep this *real* friendly…"

"Shut up, Spike." Gabriel smacked his stomach, trying to push him off with one hand while she scrambled behind her body with the other. Just as he leaned in again, pressing his body to hers from shoulder to thigh, her hand closed down on the door handle and she pulled, spilling them both out into the night.

"I'm fine, Angel," Willow groaned when his fingers pressed against a rapidly-growing lump right at the center of the back of her head. "Really, it's just a bump. I can see straight and everything."

"How many fingers?" Angel asked, ignoring her pleas of health. He held up his thumb, first, and middle fingers, waving them back and forth slowly in front of her face so that her eyes would have to follow them.

"Two and a thumb," she chirped, pushing against his chest until he gave her breathing room. "And stop that, you're going to make me dizzy. I'm fine, Angel. Really."

"If you're sure…" he let his voice trail off, disbelief thick within his tone. She nodded and opened the car door, escaping onto the cliff's edge before he could say anything further.

Angel joined the other three, watching silently as Spike and Gabriel dusted off their black pants, wiping away the tiny chunks of rock and leaves that clung to them from their fall. Spike turned back to grab her leather jacket for her, and it was with the utmost care he helped slide it along her arms and up to her shoulders. Gabriel felt her breath catch in her throat, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything to him, not even a thank you.

"We're here," Willow broke the silence that feathered around their group, clinging to fingers and mouths in an attempt to still them. The other three turned to look at her, alien eyes meeting hers each time. Willow was reminded, not for the first time, that no matter how much they looked human or tried to act human, that she was the only true human.

The slight coil of disgust in her stomach startled her, as it had every time the topic was broached within her own mind lately. She ignored it as she had so many times before, because she wasn't ready to face the implications it brought, implications of what she might want in her future…and a white picket fence and children no longer seemed to be a part of that equation.

"Let's go." Gabriel turned to face the edge of the cliff, where blackness eased the transition from rock to air to ocean at the very base of the stones. As they approached, rickety wooden steps appeared, tucked in a tight line against the side of the cliff face. Waves leapt up to crash over the stairs, leaving them slick and encrusted with sea creatures.

Shards of terror washed over Willow as she approached. Her footsteps dragged, kicking up tiny bursts of dirt as she scooted her tennis shoes forward reluctantly. By the time Gabriel had started forward onto the stairs, Willow halted completely, her hands reaching forward to stop the demon as well. Her cry of warning died in her throat when Gabriel's feet connected with the wood and she waited, breath thick, for the woman to fall, plummeting through the splinter-infested wood to the rock-strewn ocean below.

Gabriel took another step, beginning her descent along the side of the cliff, and Willow felt her back jerk from being tensed too long. She stepped forward as Spike followed Gabriel onto the steps, but nothing happened to him, either, nor to Angel as he followed his Childe down.

Willow drew in a deep breath, flooding her lungs with oxygen. She pressed her eyes together tightly, blocking out the sight of the ocean, teaming back and forth as if pitched with a hunger she couldn't understand, and stepped forward.

The instant her shoes hit the wood, the feelings of danger, disaster, and fear dissipated as if they had never existed. Her eyes sprang open and she glanced around, confusion floating on the air to her companions.

"Wards," Angel called back to her quietly. Willow gazed down at him, surprised to find that he had stopped to wait for her, one hand held out in offering. A small smile lifted his lips, but did not quite pierce the fathomless depths of his dark eyes. "Vampire wards set up to keep unwanted mortals away. It's a magic of its own right."

"Oh," Willow whispered, placing her tiny hand in his. He led her down the slick stairs until she was only a step behind him and then started down again, keeping hold of her to offer her a point of balance. The harsh ocean wind battered them and threatened to fling her against the cliff side.

Large rocks, more mini-cliffs than simple stones, littered the path to the cave. Willow could see the dark maw gaping ahead, but struggled to clamber over the larger obstacles. Angel tightened his hold on her hand and helped her make her way around them.

At one point he had to lift her bodily over one of the larger rocks; his arms captured her against his chest before he set her gently back on the ground, keeping her near his body at all times. She laughed, the soft tones ringing out above the crash of waves against stone; exhilaration rushed through her body.

She ran her hands down his arms, grinning broadly when his muscles tensed beneath her fingers, his strength evident though he usually kept it in check. Touching him was a game, something to play at and enjoy every moment of, without fear of repercussions now that his soul was permanent and they were far from Buffy's jealous eyes.

"Are you two coming?" Gabriel turned, the wind tossing her dark hair about her face. She tempered her words with a grin; Spike slid an arm around her, staying just far enough back that her peripheral vision wouldn't pick up on his wicked smirk.

Willow flushed, unused to the public displays of affection, even with the untraditional couple that made up Spike and Gabriel; she hurried forward, dragging Angel along behind her, her fingers wrapped tightly around his hand. Angel let her pull him on, but took the time to admire the view of his red-haired love.

A cave opened up before them, a darkness even deeper than the night that surrounded them. Gabriel led the way inside, though Spike stayed tight on her heels, almost too close for comfort.

The rock stairs were enshrouded with blackness; the journey deep into the earth was treacherous indeed, even more so than the wooden stairs outside as slick as they were with water. Each step down was another new adventure in danger, because even the vampires could see no farther than the person descending before them.

"More wards," Angel murmured, lifting his voice just enough that Gabriel could hear his words as well as Willow could. "Not the work of ordinary vampires." Gabriel nodded, the movement almost lost as her dark hair blended so well with the air around them.

"They have a witch," she informed the rest of the group, keeping her voice low and her attention on each step forward. "She's the one who came up with the permanent soul spell, I do believe."

"You weren't going to tell us this before hand?" Spike grabbed Gabriel's arm and swung her around to face him; their progress came to a standstill. His fingers bit into her skin, but Gabriel refused to wince and show her pain.

"I thought you'd figure it out," she placed one hand on top of his where he held her still. "Vampires can't fix a soul on their own, you know." She flashed him a smile, though it felt like the corners of her mouth would crumble from the tightness of it all, and turned back toward the stairs, taking the next step down.

It was good that Spike hadn't yet released her; Gabriel's feet met nothing solid and she started straight down, her scream cut off into a short yelp of fear. Spike sank forward as she jerked against him and then lunged back, reaching for Angel with one hand to help stop the demon's fall. Angel grabbed his arm and tugged, dragging both of them back onto the steps.

Gabriel pressed both hands to the uneven rocks, breathing deeply to calm herself after the adrenaline rush. It didn't help, however; the rocks scraped her knees, even through her pants, and already a thick stain gathered on her jeans. The blood-scent flooded her nose with each deep breath, and though it was her own blood, her reaction was just as violent as to someone else's.

Spike crouched in front of her, watching the play of hunger across her face. His eyes were still shadowed with bruises, though the worst injuries, the slashes that hadn't healed yet, were hidden beneath his shirt, pants, and long trench coat.

"You ok, pet?" he asked, reaching out to run his fingers down her face. She turned her eyes up at him, the dark irises tinged with gold, and nodded; he could see the press of fangs to her lower lip and knew better than to believe her.

Gabriel surged to her feet, pressing both hands to her face. She shoved the palm of her left hand against her mouth until her sharpened teeth cut into the inside of her lips, flooding her mouth with blood and driving away some of the uncontrollable need to eat. She hadn't been struck this badly by a hunting urge for years; she could only attribute it to the high levels of tension overwhelming her body each time Spike was injured, coupled with the call to Silver's presence.

Spike shifted forward, resting one hand on the last step that he could see, and strained his eyes to figure out what had gone wrong with Gabriel's attempt to descend farther. At first nothing but blackness met his focused gaze, but slowly, piece by piece, the darkness began to fade away, revealing the sharp turn to the right so that the steps would cling to the rock wall.

"They know we're here," he muttered as he stood, noting the murky light now surrounding them. "No more games to keep us away." Gabriel reached for him, sliding her fingers down his wrist and cupping her hand around his.

"They've known we were here since we arrived in town," she argued. "This has just been a…show of power. Silver won't be able to resist taunting me."

"How can she taunt you?" Willow whispered, huddling close to Angel's side. She twisted her fingers around the bottom of her jacket and began to pick her way down the steps. "You're stronger than she is; I remember what happened with Belthazar."

Gabriel refrained from answering, but continued to lead them farther into the cave. She didn't release Spike's hand until they reached the bottom of the steps; he stepped away from her just enough to give her room to maneuver. In a sharp contrast, Angel drew Willow closer to his body, placing her a step behind him and tucking one of her hands at the small of his back.

Barrels of bonfire flared to light, the flames leaping up to flick at the rocky ceiling before they settled down to a normal level. The influx of light dazzled their eyes; for many long heartbeats-too many, Willow's mind screamed at her, they would be trapped-they could see nothing but flashes of yellow.

Gabriel strained her senses, but picked up on no sound beyond the trickle of water coming from some far off room. Goosebumps rose along her arms, a natural reaction to the waves of power riding the air; it washed over them and left a crackling energy wherever it touched.

The vampires shifted their weight from foot to foot as the demons residing inside their flesh roared to life, stretching their own power, anxious to be set free on the demon energy testing the waters, so to speak. Even Willow began to tremble, and she wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off the new chill to the air.

As the fire-lit barrels spread along the length of the room, details were revealed to their straining gazes. It was empty of life, or so it appeared, but furniture was strewn everywhere. Leather couches whose cushions were stuffed full of soft material until they bulged created an outer wall to the center living area; large, comfortable-looking chairs were strategically placed so they wouldn't block any one place to sit, ensuring that no matter where in the room you were, within a moment you could escape up the stairs or back into the tunnels that the light didn't pierce.

Three large chairs stood against the far wall. Their positions looked new and there was an awkwardness to the location that made Gabriel wonder just how recently they had been resituated there. The back of each one rose up until it would tower over whomever stood before it.

They were cut from black rock that seemed to glow from the dancing firelight. The edges on the back of the chair thinned out to a razor-sharp line, but the arms were smoothed over and safe to touch.

Willow felt something rising around her, an invisible presence that reached up and up, arching from the floor to brush in front of her face, not touching her skin, but causing a faint breeze to dance around her. She blinked, and the chairs wavered like her vision did when staring through hot air.

When they solidified again, they were no longer empty; two men and one woman had taken up residence in them, each sitting perfectly upright, their spines straight, though their muscles were relaxed where their arms rested on the sides of the chairs.

The center chair held a man. Willow knew he couldn't be human even without being told; the aura of malevolence that drifted across her skin even from this distance assured her of that fact. He tilted his head to the right a bare inch, the spiky white-blond hair brushing against the back of the obsidian chair. In the back, his hair curled around the collar of the long, black trench coat that hid his slender body in its dark folds. Dark boots and dark pants flowed into the black leather, creating the illusion that there was more to him than in reality. The only true color on his body was cerulean-blue eyes that shone with intelligence. His lips twisted into a grin, but the tightness at the corners of the expression revealed the cruelty in it.

He lifted a cigarette to his lips and she realized even his hands were encased in black leather, the gloves tight and thin enough to not impede his fine motor skills. His tongue darted out to meet the tip of the cigarette and he inhaled deeply, holding it for longer than a human would have been able to before expelling the smoke in a puff of whiteness.

To his right, the other man sprawled, even though his posture was nigh-on perfect. Long legs, encased in a pair of leather pants, stretched out in front of his body. His chest was bare beneath a leather jacket; a leopard winked at them from right sleeve, claws extended toward his body. Impressive muscles caught Gabriel and Willow's eyes, though both females tried to hide their reaction. He tilted his head to the left, turning it in slightly toward the center man, and his long, dark hair fell forward over one shoulder, long enough to hide the upper half of his arm. His features were distinctively Native American, and Willow couldn't help but wonder just how long he'd lived, for lack of a better word, in the area. Was he simply descended from the old people, or was he one of them, his beauty captured for all time in a body desperate for blood?

On the far left, the lone female crossed one leg over the other, her movements slow and chosen with care. Thigh high boots rubbed against each other, releasing a pleasing creaking sound that only the most well cared for leather could create. They covered her pants almost completely, revealing a strip of black velvet at the very top of her legs and waist; to the naked, mortal eye, the difference in color was indiscernible. Velvet encased her torso and chest, the dark blue color highlighting the same shade within her wide eyes. Blonde curls floated in a halo about her head, at odds with the rest of her ensemble. Strange black lines surged together and apart, writhing like mating snakes, around her throat.

She shifted onto her right hip, leaning in toward the blond man, her right arm pressing against the rock arm of her chair. He shifted his weight, settling in the very center of the two flanking him, and lifted the hand that held the cigarette. In a movement too fast to be noticeable, he flicked it to the floor at Gabriel's feet, and motioned for them to come forward.

Deliberately Gabriel stretched out one foot and pressed the toe of her boot against the still smoldering cigarette. It crunched audibly beneath the pressure she exerted, and extinguished with a faint hiss of disappointment.

"Come on, then," Gabriel muttered. She squared her shoulders, settling her leather jacket closer around her body, and walked forward. Once she began to move, her steps held no pause; she wasn't going to wait for the others to gather their courage. They followed her now or they did not, but either way, she was out of options and out of breathing room; time had run out and she had to face the one who called.

"Gabriel Michaels," the woman spoke first, tapping the nails of her right hand on the obsidian rock as she spoke. "You have been called forward to repay the debt of honor you promised me in exchange for services rendered. You and your people are welcomed here for this evening. In the manner of the old ones, you are granted safe passage as we discuss this matter further. Unless you offer violence to myself or to those I have sworn to protect, you will not be harmed."

"As leader of this Pack," the blond one spoke so quickly after the woman stopped that his words seemed to almost overlap her own, "I grant you, Angelus, terror of Europe, and you, William the Bloody, his prodigy and revered Master by your own right, safe passage through our lands. You may feed upon my humans as you see fit, with the utmost discretion."

"I thank you for your offer," Angel pressed one hand to the small of Willow's back, his fingers caressing her gently. She twisted her head, wanting to assure him with her eyes that she understood what was going on, at least a little, and wouldn't do anything harsh. The moment her gaze met his face, she realized the touch was more for his comfort than hers.

Silence descended over them; the three in the chairs seemed to loom forward, though they hadn't actually moved, not that Willow could tell. She pressed back against Angel's touch. Her chest began to ache and she realized with a start that she was holding her breath; it took a concentrated effort to draw oxygen down into her lungs.

Gabriel moved forward one more step and stopped. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, not reaching for the weapons she carried, but staying within a quick grab of them. Her gaze moved slowly over each of the men sitting in front of her until at last she looked at the woman. Her spine straightened until she stood with as perfect posture as they sat.

At last she parted her lips, drawing her words up slowly so that they hung in the air, carrying as much weight as they deserved. "Hello, Silver," she murmured. Silver's lips twitched, baring her teeth in what could have been described as either a smile or a snarl, depending on whom it was directed at. "Or, as I should address you, hello, Master."


End file.
